This story is about me. Only me. It’s about my ego and insecurities and fears and needs.
I typically write what I think might be useful for others to know and understand, but this is different. It’s more like a diary entry. A confessional. A cry of frustration.
It’s the sort of thing I would address to a wife or partner or trusted companion — if I had a woman in that role. It’s my half of a conversation which I would need to have with someone who loved me and believed in me and was permanently a part of my life.
So this probably isn’t for you.
I’m struggling right now. In many ways, things are the best in my life that they’ve been for at least 20 years. I have stability and purpose again. I know where I want to go. I’m more clear about my values and my priorities than I’ve ever been in my life.
But I’m struggling with the gap between how things ought to be and the reality I see in front of me. And that gap terrifies me — because nobody lives forever.

Chance encounter with woman leaves me grateful for my health
Door in my dream keeps trying to take me to the life I’ve needed
Christmas marks God’s attempt to connect us to himself and others
If you repress feelings long enough, depression attacks without warning
They won’t listen to arguments; they might listen to honest art
Without things to look forward to, the human heart gets ready to die
Don’t be so quick to walk away; you might be close to success
Trust and spontaneous order don’t require heavy hand of the state
Urban Meyer’s drunken behavior points to deeper character issues